


Succulent Crab Cakes

by PapayaK



Category: Psych
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-11 13:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2069298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapayaK/pseuds/PapayaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gus knew his best friend's greatest fear: Shawn's mind was his super-power. He feared losing that power more than he feared death. Confusion was Shawn's kryptonite and he was staring it in the face. Poisoned by a neurotoxin, Shawn must fight the effects long enough to solve the case and save the day. Shawn whump, with lots of friendship and family thrown in. Rated T just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Spencer Always Stands Up for the Truth

Nine year old Shawn Spencer trudged wearily into his kitchen. Dropping his backpack by the door, he went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of milk.

His father was at the sink filling a glass with water, having just finished mowing the lawn. He watched his son's actions with interest, and then joined him at the kitchen table.

"What happened at school today, Shawn?" his dad asked, trying to hide a smirk, since obviously something 'horrible' had occurred, causing his son to 'belly up to the bar' as if the weight of the world was on his narrow shoulders.

"Gus got in trouble," he mumbled without looking up.

That made Henry quirk an eyebrow. His son's slightly guilty demeanor would strongly suggest that HE had, in fact, been the culprit, not his best friend.

Dad decided to dig a little deeper into this issue, "What happened?"

Shawn sighed, "Miss Winter left- and when she came back- a thing on her desk was broken."

"Mm hmm, and how did Gus get blamed?"

Shawn took a long pull on his milk before responding, reinforcing his father's suspicion, "Gus and a couple other guys were over by it."

"And what made Miss Winter think it was Gus?"

"I don't know."

"Shawn…"

"I don't!"

Slightly exasperated, Dad continued, "Okay… Well, what did she say?"

"She said Gus looked guilty," came the answer from behind the glass.

Dad sat back, "Gus always looks guilty when something goes wrong around him."

Shawn nodded in agreement.

"Miss Winter should know that."

Another nod.

Dad leaned in, prepared to get to the heart of the matter now that he had the relevant facts, "And why didn't you admit that it was you? A Spencer always stands up for the truth. Even when it is inconvenient."

Shawn looked up and stared at his dad for a second before he answered. He was confused. In his mind, his dad had just made two completely opposite statements.

Being nine, he went with the first one, "DAD! I didn't do it!"

"Shawn…"

"I didn't!"

"Shawn!"

"I didn't, Dad. I wasn't even over by those guys. I don't even like those guys." The younger Spencer's face was screwed up into something between anger at the unfairness of the world and fear that it was all his fault somehow. He was staring at his nearly empty glass as if he could cause it to crack with his gaze alone.

Dad frowned and straightened, suspecting suddenly that he may have been wrong, "Then why was Gus over-" Gus's actions were not in question. Shawn's were, "Never mind. Who did it then?"

"I don't know." Shawn's gaze dropped to his hands as he pouted.

At this point, Henry didn't even reprimand his son, just tilted his head and waited expectantly.

Shawn continued to pout and stared determinedly at the table. He felt like a suspect in the interrogation room his dad had once showed him. He knew exactly what his dad was waiting for and he didn't like it. Although his nine year old mind couldn't really process it, 'a Spencer always stands up for the truth' was exactly why he was so miserable. He really didn't know what had happened up by the teacher's desk. But he understood- somehow- that he should have figured it out and defended his friend. When someone got in trouble that shouldn't be – it was his job to help find the truth. That's just what Spencer men did. He hadn't. He had let Gus get in trouble.

But Dad was waiting.

"Miss Winter made the rest of us put our heads down. I couldn't see. I couldn't help - I wasn't allowed." He made a weak attempt to defend himself.

Henry Spencer nodded his head grimly, already planning the phone calls he would make, first to Gus' parents and then to Miss Winter – Just as soon as he had all the facts about what had really happened.  
He knew - even if Shawn didn't - that his son had seen what had happened – or at least he had seen enough to figure it out.

"Shawn, close your eyes."

"Daaaaad…"

"Close your eyes."

Little Shawn sighed, resigned to his fate. He slumped back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Henry smiled softly, "Now. Tell me exactly what you saw up by Miss Winter's desk…"

TBC…


	2. Better Than Pineapple

Chapter 2 – Better than Pineapple??

"GUS!" Shawn called cheerfully as he bounced into the Psych office one morning. He was dressed in his usual jeans and button down shirt, which was open to reveal the slightly rumpled t-shirt underneath. He paused in the doorway and then chuckled as his stomach growled loudly enough for Gus to hear, “I'm hungry! Let's go." He cupped a hand behind his ear as if listening, “Wait… What?” he held up a finger to silence Gus, then dropped it and raised his eyebrows expectantly at his best friend, “I can hear the tacos calling us!”

Gus’s crisp striped shirt was tucked neatly into his khakis which were hidden beneath his desk. He frowned, refusing to be pulled into his partner’s shenanigans, “No, Shawn. I am finishing these forms for our taxes – which you should have done your half of last week, and then I am going to finish my route that you interrupted yesterday."

"Gus, don't be a twirly telephone pole. I'm hungry!"

Gus smirked for a second, picturing what a twirly telephone pole would actually look like, but then he quickly returned to typing.

"Guh---" Shawn was interrupted by his phone. His smile grew even larger when he saw who was calling, "Jules! Wanna get something to eat? I'm starved and…" He listened for a few moments, "Cool! We'll be right there!"

He grinned at his best friend as he hung up the phone, "Cockatiel and yellow-bellied sapsucker? Meet Blarney!"

Gus quirked an eyebrow at him, "Two birds with one stone?"

Shawn grinned happily, "There was a murder… at a banquet! A case AND a meal! Let's go!"

"No."

"Guh-uh-usssssss! C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon---" Shawn started doing his impatient dance.

"Shawn…"

"They're waiting! Let's go-oh!" he whined.

"Shawn!"

"There's a banquet… I bet they have crab cakes…" he sang in his most enticing voice.

"Crab cakes, Shawn?" Gus’s inflection somehow managed to convey both his lack of interest in eating said seafood delicacy and his disbelief that Shawn was really that excited about them.

“I’ve always wanted to try crab cakes. Or crab pies? Crab pastries? Crab doughnuts!” Shawn continued musing to himself, “I wonder if they’d put candles in the cake? Frosting? Crab frosting…”

“You’ve never had a crab cake?” Gus sounded incredulous at best.

“No. I haven’t, Gus, and you rubbing it in is only making me want one more!”

Gus shook his head and tried to concentrate on the tax forms in front of him. He didn’t have much luck.

"Crab cakes. They sound even more ssssucculent… succulenter? Succulenterer?"

Now Gus folded his hands in his lap and was simply glaring.

Shawn noticed out of the corner of his eye that his friend was no longer amused. He concluded with authority, "More succulent than pineapple!"

At that, Gus raised an eyebrow, "Something you're gonna like more than pineapple?” he asked in disbelief, then bowed to the inevitable, “I gotta see this." He got up and grabbed his jacket, "Where are we going, Shawn? And why?”

"We have to get to the crime scene before Mr. Manfred-chest-en-sen gets cold…" Shawn said cheerfully.

"Who?"

"Mr. Manfred…chest…" Glancing at his friend he saw that Gus was still not amused. "en…sen?" He finished hopefully.

"Mr. Manfredsen? John Manfredsen?"

"I guess… why? You know him?"

"No, I don't know him. I know OF him. He's the Senior Manager of Pharmaceutical research at PhRMA. He owns the place!"

"FF-RRR-MAH?" Shawn made a ridiculous face as he tried to pronounce the name.

Gus rolled his eyes, "It's pronounced, Pharma. And yes – he is the head of… Shawn!"

Obviously, Shawn was no longer paying attention as he was now attempting to juggle a pineapple squeeze toy, his He-man action figure, and the keys to the Blueberry.

Gus sucked his teeth, "Tch! Let's go, Shawn!"

Shawn grinned triumphantly as he dropped the toys and tossed the keys to Gus. He then stood sideways and made a wide ‘after you’ gesture, as his best friend stormed out. 

Surprised at his Gus’s speed, he raised his eyebrows and trotted after, pulling the door closed behind them.


	3. Man-fred-chest-en-sen

Approaching the lab at PhRMA, the two friends were underwhelmed. It was a simple cement block building with few windows and fewer doors. They entered through what seemed to be the main entrance. It was being monitored by Buzz and Officer Able, and they exchanged nods and grins with the men as they passed.

Once inside, they made their way over to where Lassiter was prowling angrily, Juliet patiently standing to one side.

"How did he die?" Gus quietly asked Shawn as they approached the crime scene.

Shawn stopped and faced him, "I don't know… Yet…." He looked at Gus meaningfully. "But I will…" he finished on a grin.

They could just barely make out the conversation between the two detectives.

“Why are we even here?” Lassiter grumbled under his breath. They had already been there for hours. The death had occurred late the night before – early that morning really. The Doctor, his family, and a few employees had been celebrating a recent success, when he had suddenly collapsed. 

They had been there since dawn, investigating and interviewing witnesses, most of whom had been sent home.

Juliet rolled her eyes patiently before turning to face him. “Because there’s a body?” she pointed out.

“He probably had a heart attack.” Lassiter dismissed. “And now I will miss…” 

Juliet didn’t think it was possible for her partner to look more frustrated, but he suddenly did. She turned to see what had upset him further.

“If those two idiots interfere in any way…” he murmured over her shoulder. The sources of his frustration had paused just outside the tape which surrounded most of the lab. Lassiter was momentarily soothed as the temporary barrier kept them at least twenty yards away.

Juliet sighed.

Crime scene tape had never stopped Shawn before. In fact, one might say it encouraged him. He and Gus quickly ducked under it. Once inside, they began to explore the section of the lab that had been set up for the banquet. The lab itself was one extra-large room filled with metal tables and scientific looking equipment, currently shifted to make room for plates of food, now mostly empty, and beverages of all kinds. There was a gantry system that ran the length of the ceiling for moving heavy equipment and a metal-railed balcony that surrounded the room on the upper level.

"Technically, Shawn, this isn't a banquet. It's really more of a small reception, maybe even a party," Gus said.

Shawn, however, wasn’t listening. His eyes were on the food. “See?” He stuffed his mouth full with a smile. "Crab Cakes! And I was right. They are ssssucculent!" A few crumbs flew out of his mouth.

Gus raised an eyebrow and stepped out of reach of the projectiles.

"Want some?" Shawn held out a cake to him.

Gus started to reach for the cake, then shook his head and dropped his hand. "You know I can't eat near dead people, Shawn! And neither should you."

"Gus. There were only two left, and I'm offering you the last one. How can you turn down an offer like that?"

"Easily."

"Fine. It's mine then." 

With Shawn finishing the last crab cake, and brushing off crumbs as he went, they approached the corpse: one Doctor John L. Manfredsen.

Lassiter stopped what he was doing and glared, “Spencer, why are you here?”

Shawn, who was busy noticing things, lots of things…without anyone noticing he was noticing… replied simply, “Jules called us.”

Lassiter switched his glare to his partner who shrugged at him innocently and replied, “Chief Vick asked me to.” 

She tried to hide her smile because her partner was just so transparent when it came to the psychic – and she really didn’t see what the problem was. But on the other hand, she wasn’t quite as competitive as he. 

Nor was she as insecure in her abilities. But she had come to like her partner over the last year and a half. In spite of his flaws, he was an excellent detective and she had learned a lot from him. She just had to remember not to emulate him in every way.

But her thoughts were interrupted by the hated psychic.

“Oh!” he said loudly, holding his fingers to the sides of his head, “Oh! Really?” 

"Spencer…" Lassiter growled in warning.

With Gus at his side, he danced around wailing and making odd sounds. Manfredsen himself apparently ‘guiding’ Shawn. This went on for several minutes until – apparently exhausted - he declared, loudly and dramatically, "Poison! I was killed by poison!" Then Shawn fell to his knees, waiting to be 'attended' by Gus.

In truth, Gus was a little later than Shawn would have liked – he actually had a head-ache after all of that fun– not that he would ever admit that he may have overdone it.

Lassiter stormed over, “How can you possibly know that?” he demanded.

“The spirits…” Shawn began weakly only to be interrupted by a finger being shaken at his nose. Although he was pretty sure Lassie wished it was a fist.

“You’re so… You’re…” Detective Lassiter was barely containing his anger. He was supposed to go on a date with his wife that night. It had taken him weeks to convince her to have dinner with him in spite of their separation. If this was a poisoning- and the stupid psychic was usually right about these things- he would have to cancel.

Snatching his hand away from Spencer’s face before it could turn into a fist, he snapped at O’Hara, “Have the ME screen the body for toxins. I’m going to interview the rest of the witnesses.” And he stormed off.

Juliet tossed the two a sympathetic smile and followed, Shawn grinning after her.

Once they were out of the room, Gus helped Shawn to his feet and asked, "Really, Shawn? Do you really think this guy was poisoned?"

Shawn frowned abruptly. "Of course, Gus! I may have cockamamie ideas sometimes, but never when shame, or lack of payment may occur."

Gus objected, "What about the case where – "

“No-” Shawn cut him off.

“Or the case where –“

"NOT on purpose!" Shawn protested.

And Gus smiled to himself. For while his best friend might get him into trouble occasionally, it was never without a good reason.  
Well…  
Without a reason.

Shawn continued quietly, "Plus the witnesses said he complained of a headache, then started acting strangely; he couldn't remember his own name one moment and was completely lucid the next. Finally, he said he was hot, then cold, then hot again - then he died." He added.

Gus looked at him incredulously.

"Lassie's notes,” he explained, knowing Gus would understand that he had gotten a good look at the detective’s notebook while he was being threatened with the ‘finger of death.’ “That sounds like poison, right?"

"Yeah, Shawn…"

TBC…


	4. They Lept into Action

Having returned to the station, the team gathered in Chief Vick’s office. They had been going over the evidence gathered that morning for almost an hour, and were no further for their efforts.

"Who would want to kill this guy?" Juliet asked the room, "He was a family man who researched new medicines. According to the witnesses we’ve interviewed, he was well liked by everyone."

Lassiter frowned, "Drugs? Could he be supplying someone with something?"

"It's doubtful." Gus interjected. "His type of research would not involve any of the typical street drugs. It's possible he was working on creating something illicit. But I-"

"Gus, don't make up words!" Shawn was frowning. He was trying very hard to find something he had seen at the lab that would give him some kind of clue. He was having a hard time because the headache he'd gotten during his vision earlier was only getting worse. He started to sidle in the direction of Lassie’s desk, hoping to sneak some of the aspirin he’d glimpsed there a couple weeks ago.

"Shawn," Chief Vick said, interrupting his sidle, "Are you hearing any more from the doctor?"

"Um," Shawn put a finger to his temple, and pressed, rubbing little circles. ‘That feels better.’ 

"Mr. Spencer?"

"What? No." he dropped his hand to his side reluctantly, "He's still getting settled in his new digs. I'll bug him in a little bit."

Lassiter rolled his eyes, "Alright. Since our ‘psychic,’” Sarcastic air quotes were sent in Shawn’s direction, “is stumped – again - We’ll do this the old fashioned way; with good, solid police work. O’Hara?" He gestured to his partner and the two of them started to leave. 

Shawn smirked, "Rounding up the Usual Suspects! I like it, Lassie!" he called after them.

As the grim head detective opened the door to leave, McNab appeared right in front of him, a manila envelope in his hands. "Results from the lab – they said you wanted them right away."

Chief Vick strode over and grabbed it. After briefly thanking the officer, she tore the envelope open and spread the results on the desk for all to see.

Shawn looked at Gus. Knowing his buddy was the best one to understand the drugs involved, he elbowed him, pushing him towards the desk.

Gus glared at the mistreatment, but took a close look at the report. He frowned, "That,” he said, pointing at the paper "is definitely a deadly poison. Two of those alone are one of the worst combinations of drugs you can have – with the third one in there,” he shook his head, “There's no chance of survival without some kind of reverse,” noticing the blank looks around him he added, “or antidote."

"Okay – first priority is to look into those drugs," Lassiter commented. "Let's get a list of everyone connected to the lab who would have had access and get 'em in here for questioning."

Meanwhile, a rather uncomfortable thought had started tap dancing in the back of Shawn's mind. He knew you're not supposed to ask questions you really don't want the answer to, but jumped in anyway, "Does it say how the poison was administered?"

Juliet looked at the report once more, "It was ingested. Probably at the banquet."

Shawn looked at her with an eyebrow quirked, "There weren't any needles there, Jules.”

She barely restrained an eye roll, "In-JEST-ed, Shawn. Not injected. He ate it."

"I've heard it both ways." He said absently, as he thought back to the details of the crime scene – to the crumbs he had noticed on the dead man's shirt, fingers, and in his beard. He swallowed hard. This was not good. So not good. "Who put together the menu? Hired the caterers?"

"It wasn't actually catered. His wife put the whole thing together as a way to thank the employees for finishing a recent project on time. Apparently she likes to entertain.” Lassiter reported, thinking back to his interview of the wife. “She put together all his favorite foods."

"He loved crab cakes…" Shawn whispered to himself, his hand only half-raised to his temple. ‘And I'm an idiot.’ he finished silently.

Juliet raised her eyebrows at Lassiter’s comment, "Then the wife is looking like a prime suspect. Do we know anything about their marriage? Indiscretions? Money problems?"

Now Shawn put both hands to his head, closed his eyes and saw the weeping wife hugging the scared little girl – their daughter. He remembered their clothing and her jewelry – all telling him that this was a   
modest, but happy family and that Manfredsen had given his wife jewelry – not terribly expensive, but tasteful and obviously worn proudly by his wife. He saw Manfredsen's shirt – ironed nicely, but not professionally... "No!" He spoke up, wincing at the spike in his headache from the volume of his own voice. He continued more quietly. "They were happily married. It's someone else." He trailed off distractedly.   
That wasn’t the only thing he had remembered about the little family…

He really needed to talk to Gus.

"Do you know who?" Chief Vick prompted.

"What? No. He's… not telling." Shawn answered evasively. "Gus? Can I speak to you for a moment?"

Gus frowned, puzzled, but followed his partner into the hall.

Shawn sat heavily on the bench outside and waited for Gus to join him.

"What is it, Shawn?"

Shawn sighed, "Tell me about Manfredsen's last moments. What did he go through?"

"I don't know that, Shawn – you're the one who knows that stuff."

"You know the drugs – what would happen to someone if they took all three?"

"Actually that's a really complicated thing to know – you'd have to run tests-"

"Gus!" Shawn protested, just a trace of desperation in his voice.

His friend gave him a look of surprise, but answered him, "What the witnesses said about Manfredsen's last moments would be pretty typical: those drugs all affect the nervous system. They're not bad drugs by themselves – they're medicines, but when you combine them, they counteract each other. It's actually the side effects of that interaction that would kill you."

Shawn was bouncing his knee and making 'move it along' motions with his hand.

"I'm getting there, Shawn..." he said tensely, but Shawn's demeanor didn't change. 

He often relied on Gus for certain facts, information and insights, and Gus was happy to provide them, even if he didn't always understand why. But in this case – something about Shawn seemed off… 

He continued patiently, "He had a bad headache for sure; probably some confusion, maybe even hallucinations. I have to say, without running tests, that almost any kind of 'crazy' stuff would come and go but eventually the body would just shut down as the brain quit telling it what to do. He might get the shakes; feel hot or cold like they said – even paralysis. I really don’t know for sure, Shawn. It would depend a lot on how much of the poison a person received."

He watched Shawn digest the information. They knew each other so well; his friend’s face confirmed his suspicion that something was very wrong. "Why did we have to come out here for you to ask me this?"

Instead of answering, Shawn's knee stilled, and he looked at Gus seriously- no sign of mischief anywhere. Gus sat up straighter. He had learned to listen when Shawn looked like that.

"Buddy, I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise me that no matter what, you won't tell anyone else."

"Shawn, I always regret it when I make those kinds of promises-"

"Gus – I know how the poison was delivered. It…it was in the crab cakes." He paused while his best friend digested that fact, then grabbed his arm when he sensed Gus was about to get up, "You promised."

"No. I didn't. Shawn – you need to be in a hospital right now!"

"Shh! No. I really don't."

"Why not?!"

"First, I've got plenty of time. Old Manny ate at least six crab cakes- maybe seven judging from the size of the plate and the amount of crumbs. They were his favorite food. I ate two… Aaaand I'll never eat another one after this - which is unfortunate 'cause other than the poison, they were delicious," he paused, "Second, we have no idea what or where the antidote is and I am NOT going to lie in some hospital bed bored to death while you guys have all the fun of looking for it."

“That’s enough! I have to tell somebody-”

Shawn grabbed his shoulder this time and forcefully sat him back down. Leaning in intensely, he murmured, "Finally, and here's the really 'good' part: The Doc and I weren't the only ones to eat them. Little Amy, the daughter, about ten years old, ate part of one – only a bite or two, I think, but SHE'S the one who needs to be in the hospital. I'M the one who needs to save her. And I CAN'T DO THAT if I'm stuck in a bed. Okay?   
I need your help with this."

Gus swallowed and after a moment’s hesitation, nodded reluctantly. He knew Shawn was the girl's best hope. 

Relieved, and thankful not to be alone in this, Shawn squeezed his eyes shut tight against the pounding headache, grinding both fists into his temples. Then he took a deep breath, glanced once at his buddy and bounced up and back into the office as if nothing was wrong. 

"I've got something!" He shouted as he threw himself into Lassiter's arms. Lassie caught him, holding the grown man like a baby for a split second before dropping him on his behind. "That hurts, Lassie. It really does. And not just on my bumper," he reprimanded the detective, before leaping to his feet. "It's a child!" he declared, pretending to rock a small child in his arms. He kept up his demonstration for a full minute - until eyes started to roll - saying things like: "There, there, don't cry." "Are you hungry?" and finally, when he was just about to lose the attention of his audience, he cried, "Wait! No! No! Don't eat…"  
He fell to his knees before the chief, "The poison was in the crab cakes. But Man-fred-ches-ten-sen wasn't the only one! His daughter, Amy, ate part of a deadly crab cake! It's a small amount, but we need to make sure she's cared for right away!"

With that announcement, everyone leapt into action, leaving Shawn on his knees with Gus standing behind him. Shawn smiled, "They leapt." He commented quietly to Gus while sitting back on his heels, "They actually leapt into action. Did you see that? That was cool."

Gus shook his head with worry, "Yeah, Shawn, people tend to do that when a child's life is at stake." Or their best friend's…

TBC…


	5. Progress is made... in the wrong direction

oO0Oo

Once the others had left, Shawn stood and made a bee line for Lassie's desk. He grabbed the aspirin bottle from the bottom left drawer and dry swallowed several.

Gus followed, "I still think we need to tell someone…"

"And I think we need to get back to the lab – check out Manny's office." Shawn started to leave, but called back; "And I win!" he sang over his shoulder, humor clear in his voice, knowing Gus would have no choice but to follow.

When they returned to the lab they entered the Doctor's private office. Shawn's eyes roved over every surface intently as Gus waited and kept watch- both on the door and on his friend.

Shawn sat at the desk, opening drawers and shuffling things about a little. Then he paused and stared at the blotter.

"Shawn?" Gus prompted softly when his friend didn't move for several seconds.

Finally he frowned up at him, "What was the location Rory Derkins gave us?"

Gus felt his stomach clench. Rory was part of an investigation from a long time ago. ‘It's starting,’ he thought. ‘It's getting worse,’ he amended. His friend was slowly dying in front of his eyes.

At first Gus didn't respond, but Shawn was looking at him so intently he finally answered, "Rory Derkins answered phones on that help line, remember, Shawn?"

Shawn blinked, "What are you talking about, Gus? That's an old case!" he forced an empty chuckle. "What was the source of the drugs Manny ingested?" but Gus could hear the worry in his voice.

He knew his best friend's greatest fear: Shawn's mind was his weapon, his super-power. His thought process was what got him through everything. There wasn't anything he couldn't think through, figure out, out-smart, or manipulate. And Gus knew he feared losing that power more than he feared death.

Confusion was Shawn's kryptonite and he was staring it in the face.

They had to find that antidote – and to do that he had to help Shawn figure this out. "If it's not in the records here, we'll have to ask Lassiter and Juliet to find out. I don't know that it will help, though – Labs like this usually get everything from one source. And that means a lot of employees to check out."

Shawn shook his head, silently grateful that Gus hadn't drawn attention to his mental lapse, "No – there's too many different companies here," he gestured to the desk, "I think he just shopped around for the best deal."

Gus quirked an eyebrow, it would be unusual, but not impossible.

"We have to figure out where he was getting… was getting…" Shawn frowned and pressed the heel of his hand against his head, "Gus?"

Gus cringed when he looked at his friend's face – no one else would have seen it, but there was definitely fear there.

He walked over and took Shawn's arm gently, "Let's go. Lassiter and Juliet will have what we're looking for."

"Okay…" he got up trustingly and followed Gus. But he halted just short of the door.

Gus turned to see what had stopped him.

Shawn was shaking his head, one hand on the wall to keep his balance while he did, "No – I'm good. I need to stay here. There's more. I know it. You talk to Jules. Get her to find out where Manfredsen got the drugs. I have a hunch – but we need more info."

Gus hesitated.

Shawn smiled. “I’m good now. Go.” He nodded reassuringly, waving Gus through the door, "I'm good."

Frowning, Gus reluctantly turned and left. As soon as he was out of sight, he pulled out his phone. He had one call to make before he returned to the station, "No, I didn't promise," he whispered to himself.

TBC…  
Thanks for reading! And please review if you have time.


	6. Dad's on the Case

oO0Oo

Henry Spencer was working on his fishing gear. His favorite reel had become tangled for no apparent reason, and these things just don't happen by themselves. “Shawn…” he growled, knowing his son had probably used it for something that didn't even remotely involve fish.

His hands were full of fishing line when his phone rang. If he dropped the tangled mess, he would have to start all over, so he let it go to voice mail. As soon as he had things relatively under control, which he had to admit, took longer than he would have liked, he dialed up his voice mail. He put it on speaker so he could continue to work while he listened to the message.

His hands stilled, though, at the first sound of Gus's voice. 

"Hey, Mr. Spencer, it’s Gus. Shawn and I are working on a case…" Henry frowned, suddenly worried, as Gus paused for no reason. "Shawn… Um… I think Shawn might need your help with some of his visions." The last bit came out in a rush – which had Henry even more worried. An address followed, and Henry grabbed his keys, fishing gear completely forgotten.

Gus was telling him that Shawn needed help. They both knew his 'visions' weren't real, so obviously Shawn needed help with something else. What had he gotten himself into now?

He grabbed his phone to call the chief. She was going to tell him every detail of their latest case. He wasn’t giving her any choice.

TBC…


	7. Something is Very Wrong

oO0Oo

Shawn was on his knees pawing through what felt like the 100th file drawer, looking for something – anything - that would tell him where to look next. His clock was ticking. And so was Amy's.

As he pulled out yet another file to rifle through, he felt a vague sense of guilt. He was asking a lot of Gus – more, perhaps, than he had ever asked. If their places were reversed… No. Best not to think about Gus being poisoned and dying. It would only cloud his mind. Well, totally freak him out was probably a better assessment. Once again, he was thankful for his slightly more responsible friend.

"You know, that's not going to help." A sarcastic voice came from behind him.

He looked over at the door and was surprised to see a familiar face. "Dad! When'd you get here?" Shawn frowned and got up stiffly, "Did Gus tell you – "

"That you were poisoned? What do you think? Of course he did." His dad moved to the desk and reclined in Manny’s seat. 

"You're taking that surprisingly well…" Shawn commented drily as Henry put his feet up on the blotter.

Henry shrugged, "Whatever. Now, we, obviously, need to find that antidote. What have you got so far?" He folded his arms expectantly.

Shawn regarded his dad. 'This is weird.' But the truth was that talking to his dad always helped him out - so he began.

"Manfredsen ate crab cakes, made by his wife, that were poisoned. Wife is innocent. Drugs are something he would have here in the lab. I'm thinking that someone approached him to create something illicit, but he refused and was killed for it. Our killer has to be someone who has connections to this lab and access to those specific drugs. Gus is finding out where they came from and then we should have a list of suspects. Hopefully a short one."

"How does that help find the antidote?"

"DUH! We ask the guy. No one would create a poison without also creating an antidote. Then Lassie will intimidate him into telling us everything. There is a child's life at stake, after all."

"Yes, there is." His dad said very seriously, looking directly at his son.

“Dad,” Shawn whined, "If you're going to get all mushy…"

"Forget it, kid. I've got one question you haven't asked."

"Good for you, Dad. That's your favorite part of this, isn't it? Finding something I've missed."

"Shawn, isn't that the whole point of talking to me about this? Why else do you do it? You certainly don't talk to me about your cases when you're having no trouble solving them."

"Well…"

"You know that I help you think things through. I help you find things you missed. I don't usually find them for you… You're better at this than I am."

Shawn, suddenly uncomfortable with his Dad's words, interrupted, “What was the question?"

"How did the poison get into the crab cakes?"

"Shawn!"

The psychic spun around to face his dad, who had just come in through the door. “Gus said you needed…" His voice trailed off as he noticed his son's expression. Shawn was frantically looking back and forth between his dad and the empty desk. Fear was quite plain on his features now.

Henry was at his son's side in two strides, taking hold of his elbow since all the color had just drained from his face.

"What is it?" he asked as he helped Shawn sit on the floor.

Shawn buried his face in his hands and mumbled a reply.

Henry knelt by his side, "What's goin' on, kid?" He asked gently.

Shawn looked up at him. Some of the color had returned to his face, but it was clear to Henry that something was very wrong. He recognized what he had, over the years of caring for his son, come to know as 'headache face.' With that, his breathing was shallow and slightly erratic, although it was evening out now as he gently massaged Shawn's shoulder. But his son was terrified of something. Something he was desperate for Henry to know nothing about.

"You might as well tell me," Henry encouraged, "I'll find out eventually."

Shawn met his eyes. Rarely had he seen Shawn so open, and so afraid, "Yes, you will," he agreed softly, haltingly, "But I can't." And he buried his face in his hands once again. "What if I don't find it in time?" Let his dad think he was just worried for the girl. After all, it was true. She WAS, honestly, his first priority in finding the antidote. He just couldn't bear the thought that he might die before he found it. He had been hallucinating for Pete's sake! He didn't have a lot of time.

"You will, you will." His dad was reassuring, and he was glad for the comfort.

At least the hallucination had been helpful.

He smiled as he pulled himself slowly and painfully to his feet, "Thanks, Dad. Our talks are always so helpful." At his dad's expression, he added, "No, seriously. You were a lot of help. Thanks." He went to find Gus, leaving Henry with a look of confusion coloring his face.

TBC…


	8. Losing It

oO0Oo

Returning with his dad to the large room where the reception had taken place, Shawn was glad to see Gus returning from the station with Jules and Lassie in tow.

"What have you got, Spencer?" Lassie demanded.

Shawn paused, smirked, and spread his arms, "Where do you want me to begin?" he grinned widely. Lassie always gave him the best material! "I have five stuffed aardvarks, which is just a fun word to say – and spell…" he told Jules out of the corner of his mouth, making her smile. He continued loudly, "Four cans of Tab, three pairs of leg warmers from Gus's dancing days, two glass eyeballs, never used – well, one was, for a short time, but not by me… or Gus."

"And a partridge in a pear tree…" sang Gus in a beautiful falsetto.

Shawn looked at him, intensely grateful, "That was amazing, Gus. You have the voice of Tina Turner," he looked up at the ceiling considering, "mixed with a hint of Barry White. You should probably give them back…" He looked back at the only reason he was keeping it together right now - and nodded. "But it's fantastic."

"SPENCER!" Lassiter shouted.

Spencer jumped. Juliet and Henry both frowned when they saw him actually cringe and begin to raise his hands to his head before dropping them to his side and appearing perfectly natural.

"I'm sorry, Lassie-Fassie el Dassie, what was the question?" he asked innocently.

Lassiter glared.

"No. Really. I can't remember the question."

There was something in the way he said it – and Henry suddenly knew: He's telling the truth. Henry’s mouth went dry. He doesn't remember. Shawn always remembers…' And then he realized why Shawn had seemed so afraid. He made his way to Gus's side, "Shawn ate the crab cakes, too." He said quietly.

When Gus did not respond Henry had his confirmation. 'No. Please, Shawn, No.' He closed his eyes.

"He had to keep it secret…" Gus whispered, beginning an explanation that Henry simply didn't need.

"If he admitted it he wouldn't be here saving a little girl's life. I get it. How can I help?" Henry whispered back as Lassiter re-asked… well… re-worded his question, and Shawn began to 'psychically'- with the 'help' of the corpse - explain his theory.

But there was a problem. When he was almost through - he forgot what he was saying. He simply couldn't think what his next word was going to be. He looked so lost that Juliet began to seriously worry about him. Lassiter, who was sure this was just part of the show, rolled his eyes.

Henry nudged Gus, and whispered, "Get out there and help him have his vision!"

Gus ran to his friend and began rubbing his head with both hands. Shawn started to resist, but knew that Gus would only ever help him, so he played along.

As he continued to rub Shawn's head, he spoke to Lassiter and Juliet, "This helps when the visions get too intense. He sees too clearly to explain it." Desperate, Gus faced Shawn, his back to the detectives now, and started to rub his face, whispering the rest of Shawn's theory… which succeeded in jump-starting his friend's failing mind.

"… And THAT'S where we'll find our killer!" he shouted.

Juliet approached, "We've already compiled and cross referenced the lists of employees who had access to all three sources with those who have access to this lab. We came up with six possible suspects."

Shawn regarded her, "You guys are good." He complimented honestly, "You and Lassie," and she smiled for him. He took her elbow, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

They stepped to the side; Gus watching closely in case he should be needed; Lassiter frowning at the out-of-the-blue compliment he had just received from his ever-present pain in the rear.

"How's Amy?" Shawn asked softly.

Juliet took a deep breath, and sighed, "She's already on full life support. We don't have much time."

She frowned in concern when she saw Shawn's reaction to the news, "She was such a little thing." He whispered sadly.

"We're doing everything we possibly can, Shawn." She reassured, knowing he would blame himself if they didn't find the antidote in time to save the little girl.

He shivered.

"You're doing everything you possibly can." She put her hand on his arm so he would look at her.

He did and she was disturbed to see a blank look on his face, "Shawn?"

"What?"

"Was there something else?"

"Um… Do you have Tylenol?"

"What?" She looked at him, her eyes narrowed in worry.

He shivered again and hugged himself.

"Shawn." Gus was, again, at his side. They looked at each other for a beat- one frowning, the other concerned.

Then Shawn remembered. "Crab Cakes!" he cried. "Who- on that list," he pointed to the paper in Lassiter's hand, "had access to Manny's home?" His eyes closed, and his fingers pressed into his temples, hard, as he desperately tried to hold onto the thoughts that were screaming around in his head. He continued to shout, trying to drown out the din, "The poison could ONLY have gotten into the cakes at home, while they were being made. It wasn't sprinkled on top, because every single crab cake was poisoned!" He fell to one knee; Gus grabbed him to keep him from falling farther. He was shivering constantly now.

"Shawn…" Juliet breathed as it hit her that he must have eaten a crab cake. It would be just like him to snitch food at a crime scene. Shawn too, had been poisoned. ‘Some detective I am.’ she thought and tried to re-start her heart, staring at her friend whom she how realized, was dying.

Lassiter's eyes widened as he concentrated on Spencer's comments, "I know who it is!" he shouted.

With that announcement, the air was split with gunfire.

TBC…

Thanks for reading, and please review if you have a moment.


	9. We Have a Problem

oO0Oo

Everyone dove for cover. 

Shawn shoved Gus towards Juliet. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to safety behind some lab equipment. Without waiting, Shawn then dove for Lassie, who was lying in the middle of the floor, having been the recipient of at least one of the gunshots. He grabbed his shoulders and pulled him behind a table. 

Henry had been standing under the balcony and went unnoticed by the gunman. He pulled his gun and began to silently make his way to the upper level.

"’Suddenly shots rang out?’ Seriously?" Shawn asked breathlessly. He turned to the detective, "Lassie! You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay!" Lassie growled in pain, "I've been shot!"

"I know." Gasp, "That's not what I meant…" Gasp. "Can you still shoot?"

Juliet was trying to return fire, but she had horrible position. The gunman, however, had stopped shooting and was slowly and silently creeping over to where he would have a clear shot at the pair.

"Give me your gun, Lassie," Shawn held out his hand.

"Spencer, why are you shaking? And, no! I will not give you my sidearm. I am perfectly capable-"

"Really, Lassie? Have you seen your arm?"

And suddenly the pain hit. It figured that Lassiter, in declaring he knew the identity of the killer, had become the first target. He'd taken a bullet in the right shoulder and in the forearm. His hand was almost useless.

Shawn had grabbed a towel from where it fell when he'd overturned the table and was wrapping Lassie's forearm with it. He grabbed another cloth and handed it to the detective, "Apply pressure. And, unless you're just as good lefty as you are righty… give me your gun before it's too late!"

"I will not give my weapon to a civilian who's shaking so badly he can barely see!"

"The crab cakes," Shawn explained matter-of-factly, "were delicious." He waited for it to sink in. Lassiter's eyes widened at the implication.

"And… apparently I'll quit being cold in a second…"

Lassiter glared at Shawn's outstretched hand which had, in fact, stopped shaking. He slapped his weapon into the palm of the man he reluctantly had to agree was his partner's best hope.

"You're too late, anyways," Lassie growled in frustration, "He's out of our line of sight."

"No. He's not…"

Lassiter stared at Shawn as he very calmly lined up a shot for a spot that was twenty yards away and about the width of a quarter. The shooter was just barely visible between the crates he was using for cover. 

However, the muzzle of his gun was quite clear past the edge of the crate. It was pointed directly at an oblivious Gus.

"Don't kill him," Lassie ground out, "We need hi-"

He fired.

oO0Oo

"SBPD! Show me your hands!" His dad shouted from above, four whole seconds later: an eternity in Shawn's mind. 

That was the last thing Shawn heard. He lay where he had fallen after Lassie's gun kicked back at him. He was too weak, now, to hold onto it. 

Gus and Juliet were safe. His Dad had the guy. That was good. But his head throbbed. He couldn't think. Everything hurt. And he was so hot. 

He had failed. It was too late. Too late to save Amy. He could barely make out Lassie leaning over him. Why's he doing that? He just wanted it all to go away.

And it did.

oO0Oo

Meanwhile, on the upper level, Henry held his gun on the shooter who was lying on the floor grasping his thigh. "Show me your hands!” 

"Nah, man! I'm bleeding!" He pleaded.

"Yeah – you're bleeding. And my son is dying," Henry approached slowly, wrath clear on his face, "because of you. Where is the antidote?" His voice was frighteningly soft, and tightly controlled. With one more step he kicked the man's dropped weapon out of reach. Henry's face curled into a snarl. This trash was only alive because he had the antidote. As soon as it was found- he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions.

The murderer slowly raised his blood covered hands. You didn't need to be psychic to see that the cop was ready to pull that trigger. His eyes darted in every direction, desperate to see a way out.

Meanwhile, Juliet and Gus had reached the overturned table.

"Shawn!" Gus exclaimed as he knelt next to where his friend had crumpled. Frantic, he felt for a pulse.

Juliet, who had grabbed the lab's first aid kit on the way over, was tending Lassiter's wounds. Both detectives looked at Gus expectantly.

"He's still alive." He told them fearfully, then repeated it much louder so Henry would hear. He pulled off his jacket and bunched it up under Shawn's head, "We need that antidote. Now." He turned back to his buddy and begged softly, "C'mon, Shawn. Hang in there."

"Back-up and ambulance are on the way," Juliet told her partner, "Gus called while we were pinned down."

Lassiter looked up at the balcony where he could see Henry, his weapon pointed at the man out of sight on the floor. "Go." He commanded his partner, his voice tight with pain, "Guster can do this. Spencer needs back-up."

Juliet nodded once, pulled her weapon and headed for the stairs.

"You're not getting out of here," Henry ground out, "You're going away for murder. Your only chance is to keep it to one count. If you don't give me that antidote – right now – it'll be three counts of murder. You'll die in prison." He swallowed, "That is – IF you make it that far."

"I've got it! The antidote! I've got it in my pocket here…" he protested, using the railing to pull himself to his feet. Certain the cop would make good on his threats, he was frantic to escape at any cost.

"Henry?" Juliet had arrived and was very worried the former detective in front of her was about to do something he would later regret.

Desperate, the man took sudden advantage of what he hoped was a distraction. He grabbed the railing and launched himself over, planning to land on one of the tables below and from there, make it out the door.

Henry, however, had not been the least bit distracted by Juliet's arrival. Already reaching towards the antidote, he grabbed a leg just as the idiot cleared the railing, unfortunately changing his trajectory, and turning his leap for freedom into a headlong dive. "NO!" Henry shouted, his hands clenching the top rail as he looked down.

A second later, he turned to face a shocked Juliet. "He has the antidote," was all he said. Then he brushed past her and hurried down the stairs.

Lassiter, his arm well bandaged, met him at the body. They both dropped to their knees and began to search. Lassiter pulled out a wallet, but Henry shouted in triumph as he pulled two small vials of clear liquid from a pocket.

Thankful they were still intact. He handed them to Juliet before joining Gus at Shawn's side. "Aw, kid…" He spoke softly as he sat and pulled Shawn into his arms, his head falling against Henry's shoulder. His son's face was deathly pale, his forehead was covered with a sheen of sweat and his breathing was shallow and erratic. "We got it," he whispered into Shawn's hair. "We got it. Just hang on a little longer." He turned to the others, "Why didn't somebody bring a syringe?" he demanded, mostly angry at himself for not thinking of it.

Lassiter was studying the wallet and nodding. "Allen French" he announced the dead man's name. "This guy was on our list. He worked for one of the suppliers until he was fired two weeks ago. He was also on the list of people who had access to the house – he got a job delivering the dry cleaning, which was probably how he both approached Manfredsen in the first place, and how he was able to poison the crab cakes." He shook his head, "Just glad he had the brains to carry the antidote."

Juliet, who had been studying the two vials while she waited for the ambulance, approached the group. "We have a problem." Three heads turned to listen while she shook her head, "These bottles are different. They have very different labels, but they're in some kind of code."

Gus jumped to his feet and studied them, hoping his medical knowledge would be helpful. It wasn't. "They're different alright. And there's no way to tell which one is the antidote..."

TBC…


	10. Door 1 or Door 2?

oO0Oo

Shawn woke to the sound of someone calling his name.

He managed to pry open his bleary eyes but he couldn't bring anything into focus. He couldn't remember where he was. He had no idea what had happened to him. All he knew was that he was very, very cold.

"Shawn? That's it, Kid. Come back to me."

"D-d-dad?" He shivered, he couldn’t see him, but he recognized the voice.

"I've got you. I've got you."

It slowly came to him that he was sitting on a floor near an overturned table leaning against something soft. His dad was sitting on the floor behind him and he was leaning back into his shoulder. Henry put his arms around him. That was warm.

"Mm. B-better," he rasped, still trembling. He was so tired.

His field of vision widened a bit and he realized there were other people present. He didn't know them. But he knew one person who should be there, "Gus?"

"I'm here, Shawn." Gus knelt beside them, "We need your help."

"Wh? Help?" Shawn frowned, "m’head h-hurts."

A tall, dark haired man knelt down in front of him. He should know this guy. He looked familiar…

"Spencer, we got two bottles off French. Can you tell us which is the antidote?"

"Who'sss French?" Shawn asked weakly, "Who're… you?"

Lassiter looked up at Henry as he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to the top of his son's head, "C'mon, Shawn. Remember for us," he murmured. His son's incredible mind was their only hope.

"Dad?"

Gus nodded at Henry.

Henry swallowed hard. He closed his eyes for a moment before he spoke, "Shawn," he forced his voice to be as normal as possible. "Close your eyes."

"Daaad…" came the familiar complaint, drawing small smiles from Henry and Gus and puzzled frowns from Lassiter and Juliet.

"Close your eyes."

"Don' wanna…"

"Close your eyes and tell me about Amy."

"H-hats?"

"No. Amy."

The familiar routine – drilled into Shawn almost every day from a very young age – was the only thing Henry could think of that could possibly have fought through the clouds in his son’s mind at that moment.

And it worked.

Shawn gasped and tried to sit up.

He couldn't. He didn't have the strength.

"Dad! Amy! Antidote!" He blurted out. And then, "Hi, Lassie," came the pleasant non sequitur as he suddenly recognized the people around him. "J-Jules!" he smiled then he frowned, "Sirens?" He paused,   
listening, "Police… ambulance…" he spoke as he recognized each individual siren as the cavalry arrived. The small group gathered on the floor of the lab knew, however, that the emergency workers could help no one without the antidote, "Where'ss fire?"

"Shawn…" His father gently prodded, his soft voice betraying the fact that he was so grateful to have his son back he was fighting tears.

"Dunno- Ask the guy… Th'killer… French?" he asked Lassiter, who nodded. "Huh – so that's's name…"

"He dove off the balcony, Shawn. He's not gonna help."

“Mm. missed that…" he thought for a moment, "Somebody s-say something about b-bottles?"

Lassiter smirked and held up the two small bottles they had taken off French. "One of these is the antidote. He told us he had it on him just before he took a swan dive…"

"Swans…" Shawn breathed.

Jules continued, hoping that Shawn was still with them, "We can't tell which one is the antidote. There's a label on each but they seem to be in code. Can you… psychically tell us?"

Shawn looked around at each of them thinking, 'I wish Mom was here. So- I'm gonna go to my grave without ever telling Jules, or Lassiter for that matter, the truth. Did not see that one coming. Dad and Gus know I'm not psychic so they must just be hoping I know something about this code that they don't. I wish I did…’

"Shawn?" Gus prompted gently when Shawn just smiled softly at each of them.

"Gus… Don't be a b-banana in a… a barn. It's that one." He said, trying to point, but his hand shook too badly to tell which one he meant.

"This one?" Lassiter confirmed; holding up one of the bottles with his good arm as the police and paramedics rushed in.

Shawn slowly smirked at the irony and said, "No- other one."

His dad held him close as his eyes drifted shut, and he went limp, allowing the paramedics to manipulate his arm for the needle.

From very far away he could hear Lassie arguing as he was attended to, and felt the tiny pinch as they gave him the contents of the bottle.

Who knew? He had a fifty-fifty chance. Maybe it would work…

Either way, at least they would be able to save Amy.

TBC…


	11. The Choices We Make

Chapter 11 - The Hospital aka Epilogue

Facts began to creep into Shawn's sleeping mind. Also sounds and voices: muted and distant.

‘Great. I'm in the hospital again. It's just not as much fun as I thought it would be, even with breakfast in bed. Wonder what I did this time…’

And he drifted off again.

When awareness came crawling again, the facts were still there: The snap shots of events; the memories. But Shawn didn't really want to look at them. Most of them would be unpleasant, so he continued to drift, sliding over the happy times: laughing with his mom and dad, hanging out with Gus, making Juliet smile, making Lassie frown… but then he hesitated, and tried to stop his slide. He didn't really want to think about Lassie and Jules because then he would have to…

His heart rate monitor started squawking and hospital staff rushed in. Juliet and Henry were quickly ushered out.

They stood there, outside the door, listening to the urgent sounds coming from inside.

Thankfully it wasn't too long before things started to quiet down, and a nurse came to the door to let them back in.

Henry walked up to the doctor while Juliet waited in the background.

"What happened?" Henry demanded, “What was that?!”

The doctor straightened from the clipboard he was writing on, "If you can believe it… that was probably a good sign."

Henry's mouth opened to protest, but he honestly couldn't decide what to protest first. He shut it again.

"It means he's waking up." The doctor continued, his professional manner reassuring, "It happens sometimes with trauma patients. It seems that as they come back to reality," he paused briefly, "Sometimes the memories can be a little hard to take."

Henry nodded, "He's okay?"

The doctor nodded, "I've adjusted his meds. He should wake up a bit more slowly. Hopefully that will help. But he will wake up. Soon." With a brief smile and a last check on Shawn's monitors, he left.

"That's good news." Juliet said.

"Yeah," Henry sighed. "I just wish he'd quit getting himself into these situations."

"Yellin’ at me already, Dad?" came a voice so soft they almost missed it.

"Shawn," Henry moved to his son's side and took his hand. "Welcome back."

Shawn still seemed a bit distressed by something, he grimaced.

"What is it?" Henry asked, "Are you in pain?"

Juliet moved to get the nurse.

"No. no. it's fine," Shawn rasped, "Amy?"

"Ah." Realization hit Henry. He should have known what was bothering his son.

"Dad," Shawn complained, "Don't keep me waiting."

"She's fine, son. Just fine. And so are you."

Finally, Shawn relaxed. He took a deep breath, "Lassie?"

Juliet took that moment to step into view, "He's fine too. He'll have a sling for a while; and some therapy…"

"Oooh – crabby Lassie," Shawn cringed.

Juliet grinned, "Yup. He'll need you to keep him in line."

Shawn smiled for her, "Hey- tell him good job. He figured it out before I did."

Juliet raised her eyebrows, wondering if the detective would believe her.

"And… I'm sorry… I should have known…"

Juliet moved closer, "There was no way anyone could have known French was there. We're still trying to figure out when and how he got there."

"Psychic…" he started to protest, waving a hand in the general direction of his head. He really wanted to do his big reveal now that he had it all figured out. But it was clear he could barely keep his eyes open. Maybe later…

Juliet smiled as she rested her hand on his leg, "I'm gonna go let everyone know you're okay. Rest well, Shawn."

"Okay," he waved weakly at her, "bye-bye."

Watching Juliet leave, he murmured to his father, “M’not sorry he’s dead.”

Henry had been gearing up to scold Shawn. What kind of idiot snitches food at a crime scene?!? At a poisoning?!!? But His son’s words stopped him cold. 

He would always question his decision to grab at French as he went over the rail. The man could be in prison now, as he should be, instead of dead because an old cop hadn’t been thinking clearly.   
Or – it was possible he could have succeeded and escaped with the antidote, leaving Shawn and Amy to die.

He would never know.

Shawn’s weak voice pulled him from his musings, “He was there, hiding on the upper level, the whole time. Had to be. No other time he could’ve gotten in. Cops had no reason…” he closed his eyes for a moment to just breathe before continuing, “…No reason to search up there. He saw Manny go down. Could hear us. So he had to know about Amy… ‘bout me.” Shawn scrunched up his eyes and swallowed, not thinking about how close it had been, “Shot Lassie – He would’ve killed Gus…” 

His voice was becoming agitated, so Henry put a calming hand on his shoulder. 

Shawn closed his eyes once more and continued more quietly, “He didn’t care. Didn’t care ‘bout a ten year old girl...” He shook his head against the pillow. He was really tired. He looked up at Henry, and a father saw again, a child questioning, ‘how can there be people like that in the world?’

Henry squeezed his shoulder. “He’s not gonna hurt anybody else, kid.”

Shawn blinked sleepily and whispered, “M’not sorry…” and he started to drift off.

"Shawn?" Henry spoke softly, there was one last thing he really needed to know before he could let his son sleep, "Can I ask you something?"

He raised his eyebrows, partly in surprise as his dad never asked permission; but mostly in a heroic effort to keep his eyes open, "Sure..."

"How did you know?"

Shawn looked at him, and smirked. ‘Why are you asking me a question you clearly know the answer to?’

Henry correctly read the smirk, "You didn't."

Shawn managed a small shrug.

Henry continued, rather angrily, with the explanation, saving his son the trouble, "You had no idea which bottle contained the antidote, so You. Just. Guessed."   
He shook his head furiously, throwing up his hands and pacing, "You knew that we didn't have time to figure it out; to…to test them. You knew that. And even if you guessed wrong, we would still be able to save Amy by using the other one... And you didn't want to make any of us choose…" his voice drifted off in pure disbelief… and frustration, "You are the most infuriating person I ever…"  
He stopped then because he noticed that his son – his healthy son – had fallen asleep smiling.  
He sighed deeply.  
"You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" Henry swallowed the sudden strange obstruction in his throat.   
He sat heavily in the bedside chair and just looked at his son. He took in the healthy color in Shawn’s cheeks, the deep, even, unassisted breaths. He rested his hand on Shawn’s wrist and felt the steady pulse being echoed by the monitor. And he added softly, "I love you, kid."

FIN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well- there you go! Thanks for coming along on the ride. I apologize that Gus was not in this last chapter. He was supposed to be. I told him. But he didn’t listen.   
> This was really fun to write, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it. Please leave a note if you did.  
> Thanks, Papaya


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